Beautiful Beast
by Red Paine
Summary: Emotions cloud the monster's judgement - hatred, pity, sadness, worry, anger, disgust, and loathing, all directed unto himself. He thought his brother to be a fool, for who could ever love a beast?
1. Chapter 1

" _How long has this been going on?"_

" _Why does it matter? It's not as though you ever felt for me."_

 _The man didn't consider this, if even for a moment. His face showed no trace of thought, only white-hot rage. It didn't seem to matter that he held no affections toward this woman. His main focus was this: this woman was_ his _wife, belonging only to him, and should not be pregnant with another man's child._

" _Come," she attempted to calm him before he could start yelling, "Think of yours."_

" _Do you even want the damn thing?"_

" _No, I don't."_

 _A pause, "So what, then? Will you give it up? Leave it in the woods?"_

" _... Is that what you wanted to do to him?"_

" _You know damn well we only needed one heir!"_

 _Suddenly, the door to their room opened wider. In stumbled a pair of little boys, identical in appearance. One was crying. The other held his hand and was glaring daggers at his parents._

" _He didn't ask to be born, and neither did I! Who the hell wants to be the son of such a disgusting swine of a king!?"_

" _Roxas! Language! You're only four."_

" _I don't need to be an adult to recognize filth!"_

 _That, the queen did not argue. She simply took the crying twin out to the hallway, leaving Roxas to suffer his father's belt alone._

 _The moon was high in the sky, the stars twinkling expectantly. Draped in sparkling silks, the queen led her son by the hand out to the garden. They sat side by side on the edge of a glorious fountain spewing dazzling waters. He fingered the edge of her robe and imagined the shine from the stars and the water had been woven into its fabrics. She knew he liked having something in his hands, so she let his habit indulge itself, humming a slow tune to calm him down. When he'd stopped hiccoughing, she gently asked, "Ventus?"_

" _Yes, Mommy?"_

" _Do you love the king?"_

" _Yes."_

" _Ignore your training. Tell me your honest opinion of him."_

" _... I don't think he's fit to be king. Or a father. He scares me."_

" _He scares me too, son."_

" _Should we run away?"_

" _We are royalty, Ventus. We do not abandon our responsibilities."_

" _But you just abandoned Rox."_

 _Her blue eyes widened a fraction of a second, then relaxed, "No, I did not. Roxas was out of line, so the king reminded him of his place."_

" _But…"_

" _Ventus, please try to understand. Let Roxas learn now, instead of later. It will only get worse if he doesn't learn to behave while young. You follow his example and behave too, alright?"_

" _Yes, Mommy."_

" _Very good. It's getting late, off to bed with you."_

" _Okay. Goodnight, Mommy."_

" _Sweet dreams, son."_

 _With a kiss on his forehead, Ventus retreated to his room. He glanced once over his shoulder to see his mother press her hands to her forehead, then went down the hall to the adjoined wing. Ventus entered the first door on his right, and he started crying all over again. Sitting in the middle of their room was Roxas, shirtless, with harsh red marks lacing his torso. Running over, Ventus dropped to his knees, hugging Roxas tight and weeping into his shoulder. A hand stroked Ventus's hair, "it's okay, it's alright, I'm okay", but Roxas stayed calm. Through the worst of times, he was never upset. The last time he cried was a memory very hazy and distant to Ventus._

" _Are you okay?"_

" _Yeah, I'm fine. It's not as bad as it looks, really."_

" _They're so red…"_

" _I'm fine!"_

" _Okay, if you say so."_

 _It was then that the brothers heard a woman's scream. They knew it was their mother's, knew it all too well. Roxas made to get up and go after it, but Ventus held him back. That night, Roxas slept holding Ventus tight, with a blade under the pillow._

Just you try something, _Roxas thought before drifting off,_ I'll be ready.

 _Little did Roxas know the blade would be used for something else entirely, something that would destroy the family forever. The brothers fell into their dreamscapes and never considered they'd be older brothers soon. It wasn't important._

 _Maybe that's where it all started._

* * *

This was the fifth time Naminé attempted hands within the last half hour. No matter what methods she used, whatever references she tried to copy, they always turned out too thick, too thin, or just plain wrong, sometimes so much they appeared inhuman. Everyone in the village was astounded and awestruck by her portraits of faces and torsos, but even they couldn't deny Naminé couldn't draw hands to save her life. Frustrated, she closed her sketchbook and put down her pencil to don her apron. It was about time to open up anyway.

Naminé's little shop was nestled between the bakery and the library, on the corner of the edge of the quaint village of Blackberry. It was often quiet, both inside and out. Blackberry had two sections: the market with all the stores, and the housing street, with town hall in the center, all made of cobblestone streets and timber. The market was always stocked with fresh produce and eager customers, but it was never too rowdy. Festivals were the only days the volume got louder than a dull roar. There was, however, always music, sounding either from nature or people playing instruments. It was soothing, quiet, peaceful. Naminé listened to it blissfully as she set up her paintings in display windows. One, two, three, in equal distances from each other. The wooden sign was flipped around to tell the world Naminé's was open for business. She sat behind the counter, flipped open a new page, and started sketching a finger, holding up her own as a guide.

"The second and third sections are the same length," she gnawed on her lip, "but so is the first one if I include the nail… right? No? But what if I don't? Whose hand is this anyway?"

She sighed disappointedly at her nubby nails. She'd quit the nasty habit of nail-biting when she was a kid, but it definitely left an impact. It's not as though she actually _wanted_ long pretty nails like other girls. They got in the way of her work and would only end up chipping. Having anything but nubs would be impractical.

"Maybe these drawings look ugly because I have ugly hands…" Naminé frowned. Of course, the new drawing didn't look like a normal hand at all. The ligaments were too long, too bony, and a little too hairy. Another heavy sigh, then the bell over the door chimed. In walked a common customer, a jolly old man that adored the arts and their makers.

"Naminé, good mornin'!"

She left the sketch on the counter and greeted him, "Morning. Is it cold out there?"

"Oh, nothing an old man's bones can't handle," he chuckled, "The snow isn't that high. Barely reached my ankles."

"I'm glad to hear. So, what can I get for you today?"

"Ah, I was wonderin' if you had any new sculptures. My niece is comin' all the way from Whittlebane for her birthday and I wanted to give it to her as a present."

Naminé gestured to the back shelf, lined with all of her clay masterpieces, all of which did not have hands either. There were humans among the animals and beasts, but all of them were handless. No one seemed to mind and pretended not to notice when they bought them, "What does she like?"

"She's a horse-girl. Completely obsessed with the things."

"Horses are pretty, who wouldn't like them?" she chimed, handing him a rearing stallion, "How about this one?"

"Whoo that's a fine one! How long did it take to make?"

"A week," she watched him inspect it proudly, "They're easy to make once you know how their anatomy works."

"Did your mother teach you?"

"No one taught me anything," Naminé answered stonily.

His face fell, "My apologies. Didn't mean to bring her up."

"It's alright."

"Why don't you come to the pub with me when you close up?" he recovered, giving a reassuring smile, "I know you don't drink and all, but it's warm, there's nice people there. It'll get you out of the house."

"Last time I went, you got too drunk to walk."

"We'll split a hot chocolate and play some cards, if you want."

That brought a smile to her face, "Okay. I'll meet you there."

He paid her for the horse and departed with a friendly wave. As Naminé seated herself behind the counter, already she began dreading the evening. Social gatherings were not her forteé. Regardless of how well it goes at first, Naminé usually ended up not talking to anyone, since they'd gone off to talk to someone else. She felt she was taking up too much space while being incredibly tiny at the same time. Eighteen years old, and she couldn't remember having any friends. It had never bothered her; it meant she never had to worry about pressuring situations or drama. From the moment Naminé was born, it'd always just been her and her art. The thought contented her, though it was lonely at times. No boy had ever courted her. No girl had wanted to befriend her. Only the old man had ever taken her places, like the pub or the local dress shop. To everyone else, Naminé was known as the artist on the corner, and for Naminé, that had to be enough.

"You'll be okay," Naminé repeated to herself for the rest of the afternoon, "Don't worry."

At last, the sun had set. The torches had been lit along the street. It was time. Slightly trembling, setting her sketchbook back in its proper place on the her nightstand, Naminé swapped her apron for her coat, and went outside for the first time in a couple days. She locked the shop's door, again saying "you'll be okay" with cold breath. In her pocket jostled her painting rag, an item that brought her comfort when she felt it brush her hand. Her mittens wrapped around it in her pocket. A shaky nod and another, "you'll be okay", and she was off, trying her best to focus on the music and not the people flocking to the pub down the road.


	2. Chapter 2

" _Roxas?"_

" _Hm?"_

" _Mommy and Daddy… they've been acting strangely, lately."_

" _How do you figure?"_

" _Mommy keeps rubbing her belly. Daddy gets mad whenever she does."_

" _Oh."_

" _Why is that?"_

" _Beats me."_

" _Do you think we should ask?"_

" _... I think we should stay out of the king's way for a while."_

" _Yeah?"_

" _Yes. Promise me, Ven. Promise me you'll stay away from him."_

" _I-I promise."_

" _Good," he smiled, "Let's go get lunch."_

 _The two slipped off their beds and set out to eat. There were no servants in the kitchen, so they could help themselves to whatever they liked. Instead of the usual rye bread sandwiches, it was cake and sweets today. Ventus stuffed his face while Roxas tried to be a bit more conservative. He stared at Roxas for a moment, curious as to why he remained so well-mannered when they'd had the same training and were expected to have the same manners._

" _No one's watching, Rox."_

" _I know."_

" _Then why the napkins? The small bites?"_

" _It helps to practise behind the scenes."_

" _Who cares?"_

" _Because I'm a prince," Roxas gave him a face, "You are too. Don't you think you should make an effort? It's your responsibility to."_

" _I think I'll just enjoy as much cake as I want before the maid yells at me."_

 _Roxas smirked, "Fair enough."_

* * *

Naminé wrung her rainbow-stained rag in her shaky fists. Its texture relaxed her only slightly, and certainly was not enough. Already her chest began to tighten. She spoke aloud to herself, since no one was particularly listening to her: "Why did I think this was a good idea?"

She'd agreed to come to the pub, believing it'd be beneficial and healthy to leave the house and socialize. Whether or not this was true didn't matter to her at the moment. All Naminé could think of was running home, locking the door, and burying herself in her blankets, chastising herself for daring to go try to make friends when clearly, no one wanted anything to do with her. Again, she looked around. The old man was inebriated. He was hanging off the shoulder of a taller, burlier man, who seemed just as out of it. Everyone was. They laughed at invisible jesters and fought over fabricated issues. This terrified Naminé more. She desperately searched for someone without a mug in their grip, someone, anyone, that she could talk to, or more rather, wished would talk to her first.

"I want to go home…" she found it harder to breathe. It was coming. She could feel it, "I need to get out of here," its cold fingers clutched her heart and made it flop, "Oh no. God, no. No. No no no no no no no!"  
It happened. All sound amplified. The shouts multiplied. The pub's band suddenly had twenty extra musicians. Naminé's eyes widened and she tried her best to keep her weak fingers wrapped around her paint rag.

"Hah… hel… help..."

No one heard her. She wasn't there. She may as well have been a table tripped over.

"Heh-help!"

Her vision started dancing. She couldn't move.

"Help me!"

"Hey, are you okay?" a sudden voiced sounded. Naminé blinked at the blurry face staring down at her worriedly, "Do you need help?"

She managed a nod.

"Okay, c'mon, let's go. Is it okay to touch you?"

Another nod. She gasped, "Ca-hah-n't mov-veh," Naminé dared to reach out her arm and tug on the man's cloak, "Cah…"

He somehow understood. Ever so gently, he bent and took her in his arms, carrying her up and out the pub door. Naminé squeezed into a tighter ball that didn't bother fighting its captor.

It was tranquil in the streets that night. The singular sound was the pub's distant notes and its customers' clapping along. Naminé could sense the calm returning, though she couldn't quit vibrating. The young man holding her spoke in consoling, short sentences, "You're safe. It's over now. You are okay. Where is home?"

The tiny bundle pointed a now steadier finger in the direction of her art shop.

"Okay. Do you want to walk?"

Embarrassed, Naminé shook her head. She didn't trust her legs yet and had no choice but to trust this mystery man instead. It didn't feel like a precarious situation. Naminé couldn't get why this was happening. Usually when she had a panic attack, she'd suffer it alone, and didn't want strangers near her. As they neared the house, Naminé regained use of speech.

"Um, I'm sorry for, ah... "

"Don't worry about it," he said, "I know how to handle them."

Naminé unlocked the door for him, and he took her inside, setting her down on a stool by the door.

"I just wish we could have met under better circumstances."

"Yeah… uh, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Are you a sorcerer?"

He blinked, "Why would you ask me that?"

Naminé openly looked over his figure, "Those are some outlandish clothes."

"Well, maybe I have a peculiar sense of fashion."

"Or none at all."

"You offend, Miss…?"

"My name is Naminé."

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I'm Ventus Blackberry, but, please, call me Ven."

"Blackberry?" she gave a little laugh, "That's impossible. The royal family ran off, died out. Their castle is in ruins."

He smiled lopsidedly, "Alright, don't believe me. But why would you think I'm a

sorcerer? Maybe I'm a traveling merchant from some town that happens to dress differently."

"Any well-endowed magician can manipulate the mind. I shouldn't be this calm around you, or this honest."

"Really?" Ven gazed thoughtfully at the floor, "It must be working, then…"

Naminé shook her head, "You're an odd one."

"Perhaps. I've seen some strange things, Naminé. If none of them had an effect on me,

then maybe I was crazy to begin with."

His statement rattled her only for a second, "Oh, I didn't mean anything by it. So, why are you here, anyway? You don't look that much older than me. Are you here to get married?"

"No, I have no use for romance. I'm here looking for a, ah... how do I put this without sounding weird…?"

"Don't worry, I already think you're weird."

"Well, right to the chase then. I'm looking for someone pure of heart."

"Pure of heart? What does that mean?"

Ven's line of vision slid from her face to the shelves lining the walls. He paced gradually about the room, admiring the paintings, drawings, sculptures, and pottery. This gave Naminé the opportunity to inspect him more closely. The man did indeed have some peculiar attire. They were made of tanned leather, tight-fitted, with many belts and pockets all around. Covering his shoulders and back was a crimson cloak with runes sewn into a pattern. Naminé had never seen someone dress like that. Everyone in Blackberry wore mundane clothing. Naminé herself was in a plain cotton dress. Not even the visiting circus performers had outfits such as Ven's.

"What is your profession?" Naminé tilted her head to the side.

This broke him out of his reverie, "Hm?"

"Your job. What is it you do?"

"Oh. Well, I…" he considered his answer for a moment, "I guess you could say I'm a caretaker."

" What is it you take care of?"

"My brother… Say, Naminé?"

"Yes?"

He faced her fully, "Did you make all of these by yourself?"

"Oh, yes. Art is my passion."

"Do you put your heart into it?"

Naminé placed her hand on her chest, "My heart… Well, no one taught me how to paint or sculpt or anything like that. It just comes from experience. Is experience part of your heart?"

"I think it is."

A pause.

"Why do none of them have hands? Sculpting and drawing are two different things, are hands hard to do in both?"

"I don't know why I can't make hands," she scoffed, "It's funny, isn't it? I live off of my hands. They're my most valuable tools, and I can't even replicate them."

Ven blinked, "Why would you want to do that?"

"Everyone has hands! It's important to know them."

"I suppose."

Naminé held in a huff. He wasn't understanding the concept. It was like he didn't think it was a big deal, which it was, and shouldn't have been brushed off like that, "Alright, do you want to see some of my _attempts_?"

"Sure."

Leaving the ignorant waste of space at the entrance, Naminé made her way to the back, where it opened into her small home. To the left was a hallway leading to her bedroom. Before her was a rustic living room. At the right, a kitchen. Now, a kitchen in Blackberry was usually a simple stove, icebox, and a table. Naminé's had been refurbished to hold a small garden of sorts along with apt counter space. The icebox took up a quarter of the room. The money her parents left her was all spent on upgrading the kitchen. From here, Naminé could grow her own produce, and store enough food to last months. She hardly had to go to the supermarket; it was the exact way she wanted it.

"Wait…" Naminé took off her coat and flopped it onto the couch, "Isn't this the first time someone's been here after closing time?" she shook her head, "Don't overthink it. You'll just end up panicking again."

Ven was holding a clay wolf in his hands when she returned with her sketchbook. He was stroking its head with his fingertip, as though it were real and he could feel its soft fur. For a moment, Ven hadn't noticed Naminé until she cleared her throat and held out her hand to take the wolf and give him the failed hands. As she set the wolf back in its proper place, Ven flipped through a few pages and froze. His face fell, somber, a little serious.

Naminé mumbled, "See? I suck at hands. You don't even want to know how the sculptures turned out."

No response.

"... Ven?"

Ven whipped his face up to hers. His voice was wavering like he was about to cry, "God, I'm so sorry, Naminé."

"It's not that big of a deal!" Naminé said quickly, trying to calm him, "Don't worry! It's fine, Ven!"

"No, Naminé, you don't understand…"

"What?"

"You're the one."

"What?"

"I'm so sorry."

"Ven, they're just hands, I'll get them eventually." Naminé felt the tension rising in her chest.

"You have to come with me now."

Naminé hoped her smile didn't look too frightened, "I'm sorry, but I can't do that. I have a life here. I can't just leave."

"Naminé, I…" his eyes closed, he set down the book, "You don't have a choice. You're coming with me."

"Ven?"

The young man held out his hand, "If you don't come quietly, I have to force you."

"Ven, stop this. You're scaring me."

He lunged for her. Naminé screamed and ran to the back. In her ribs, her heart was going haywire. Her blood sang in her ears while she slammed the door and locked it. Not half an instant later, Ven was banging on it. It jolted in its frame. Naminé ran into the kitchen to grab a meat knife. Amidst the terror, Naminé thought to herself, _Am I really going to kill him? Could I do that?_

"Naminé, please!" Ven shouted, "I don't want to do this to you!"

"Then _stop!_ " she shrieked back.

"I can't do that."

Twice more Naminé heard him slam against the wood, then she heard the sound of it snapping off its hinges.

 _Here we go. Easy, now, Nami. You can do this. Just get him in the shoulder. Or the gut._

"Naminé?"

Ven came to the kitchen, where Naminé had backed herself against the counter. She poised the blade toward him in trembling hands. Her breath was short and her pupils were dilated.

"Naminé. Please. Put the knife down."

"Stay away from me…" he took a step closer, " _Get away!"_

"I don't want to hurt you. Just, please, put it down. We can talk about this."

" _No!_ "

"Then, you leave me no other options."

Ven rushed at her, taking her wrist in his fist and wrenching it to the side. Her shrill yelp jarred him and the knife dropped to the tile. Naminé's eyes leaked as she fought to free herself from his impossible grasp. Ven turned her back against him, and pressed his fingers to the nape of her neck. The agony from the pressure point made Naminé's vision briefly white.

" _Let go of me! Get off!"_

"Naminé, I'm sorry!"

Naminé could feel her consciousness slipping away. _No! I won't let him win!_ She struggled desperately to keep her eyes open. Eventually, they rolled back. Her knees buckled. Ven caught her before she could hit the floor. He carried her just as he'd done before, carefully, as to not hurt her anymore.

"I'm sorry, Naminé," he whispered, tears spilling from his cheeks onto her dress, "I'm so so sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, sorry…"

The roads were empty. Everyone was still at the pub. No one was there to notice the strange man taking the limp girl to the edge of town, onto the road, and into the questioning woods. Ven passed the sign saying "KEEP OUT", stopping to put Naminé on his back, underneath his cape. The dark, looming trees watched him ferry the unknown girl down an unmarked path. It was once traveled almost every day. That was years ago. Thorns had grown over the dirt since then. Roots overlapped them. Ven knew it well, knew it connected to many other roads weaving through an everlasting sea of shadowy forest. The forest's heart was his destination.

"I'm almost home…"

A lock of golden hair had fallen over his shoulder. Ven loathed himself for doing this.

"Naminé, please forgive me. One day."


	3. Chapter 3

" _Rox! Rox, Roxas!" Ventus shook his brother awake, "C'mon, Rox! It's happening!"_

" _Great, wake me when it's over."_

" _No, we gotta go watch!"_

 _Roxas raised an eyebrow, "You want to witness childbirth?"_

" _Why not? It's supposed to be a miracle! At least, that's what the nurse told me."_

" _It sounds disgusting."_

" _Roooox, let's goooo!"_

" _Ugh, fine."_

 _Still in pajamas, the boys raced each other to the nursery on the other side of the castle. Everyone was there. Roxas saw dukes, royalty and nobles from other kingdoms waiting patiently to see the newborn. Ventus just saw a crowd that was in the way. He barrelled through, banging on the chamber door. He heard his mother's cry and banged harder. All he got was a nurse yelling at him to stop. The brothers had to stay put. Ventus played with a rip in his shirt to keep from worrying over his mother's anguished yelps. Next to him, Roxas was watching everyone closely. He noticed they were all whispering to each other, occasionally glancing at the twins or the door. They weren't eagerly awaiting an heir. Roxas thought it was plain to see they were awaiting a whore's bastard. It irritated him to the point of wanting to fight, but the king had arrived, and it numbed him into submission._

 _A little while later, the nurse called in the royal family, telling the rest of the entourage to remain. Ventus ran in excitedly to see his new younger sibling while Roxas took more caution to maintain posture in front of his father._

" _Prince Ventus, don't run!" the nurse scolded. He didn't hear her. He was too busy staring at the little bundle in his mother's arms. Ventus looked at his mother's face, all red and sweaty from the hours of labor._

" _Ventus," she gave an exhausted smile, "Roxas. Come. Meet your new sister."_

 _The boys sat by her feet on the end of her bed. They peered closer at the babe, squirming in its blankets. It had a head of black hair, and was paler than its mother. Roxas felt bad for the poor thing. It couldn't even talk yet, and it already stuck out like a sore thumb. The royal family was composed of blondes with olive skin. It couldn't pretend to belong. It was obviously not a part of the royal family._

" _What's her name?" Ventus asked merrily._

" _I don't know."_

 _Roxas felt his heart break. He could tell just by looking that his mother didn't want anything to do with the child. She didn't hold it with tenderness or affection. She held it like a basket of apples. Firmly, because it'd be a shame if the apples were bruised, but it wouldn't be the end of the world if they were. It was then Roxas took note of his father's absence. He didn't know when he left, but he was glad the man hadn't hurt the baby._

" _Um," Roxas piped up, "Can I hold her?"_

" _Here."_

 _The queen watched Roxas take the baby indifferently. Only the nurse said, 'careful!' as Roxas took it in his arms. Immediately, the baby calmed. It cuddled up to Roxas and grew quiet. Ventus gently held his finger out so the baby could play with it._

" _She's so tiny!" Ventus cooed, "Look at her tiny hands!"_

" _Yeah," Roxas beamed at it. He rocked it lightly, "Tiny."_

 _It was at that moment the king returned, with a little old woman at his side. Roxas recognized her from the crowd outside. She took the baby from Ventus, then departed as Ventus fought against the king who had restrained him. The king matched his wife's gaze._

" _Be grateful I am letting it live."_

 _She said nothing in return._

* * *

Naminé opened her eyes and immediately wished she hadn't. Death would've been so much better compared to the terror she experienced on awakening. She came to on a plush bed. It was adorned with fancy pillows in silk cases. The blankets were lusciously comfortable; the mattress must have been stuffed with down instead of straw. Adjacent to the bed was an ornate side-table that matched the dresser on the right wall. A fireplace was at the foot of the bed, a swirling rug before it. The room's color scheme was centered around a pale lavender. None of these luxurious features calmed Naminé. While it was preferable to a jail cell, and she wasn't tied down, this was still a completely new environment. She didn't know where she was, if she was safe, or if she'd ever be able to go home. There was nothing to soothe Naminé. Her paint rag was at home in her coat pocket. In a frenzy, she jumped out of bed and whipped her head about the room. There were drapes hanging next to the bureau. Naminé slashed them to the side and found a glass door. She opened the door to get onto the balcony, and looked down.

Dawn had broken, shining new light on an open courtyard a few stories below. There were hedges lining a stone walkway. Some were shaped into animals like rabbits and deer. Flowers of all colors dotted them. In the center was a glorious fountain composed of mermaids dancing, spouting water from their jugs. The entire area was surrounded by cement walls laced with vines. They cut off view of anything outside. It had a sort of ancient, faded beauty to it. Some might have been delighted to wake up in such a place. Naminé, on the other hand, couldn't be more terrified. This castle was still unknown territory. All Naminé could think of was her house, her sketchpad, anything familiar to give her comfort. The panic was deafening.

 _I'm going to die here. No one will know. No one will care. I'm going…_

Naminé stumbled back inside rasping for air. She knocked over the side-table and fell onto the bed. The noise must have alerted someone, because not a moment later, there was a knock on the door.

"Naminé? Everything alright?"

 _Ventus._

The intruder somehow brought her focus back, if only by a fraction. She desperately sought an escape route to find the one way out was the window.

More knocking, "Naminé? I'm coming in, hold on."

Naminé was already on the balcony. It was a rather long way to the garden on the first tier, and there was nothing to cushion her fall. The hedges were out of reach, as well as any bushes. No trees either. There was, however, a ledge, lining the wall as decoration. She figured it was just thick enough to sidle on. Heart rejecting its prison, Naminé stepped off the guardrail and upon the road home.

 _Don't look down, don't look down, for the love of God don't look down… Calm down, you'll be home soon, just don't look down…_

Of course, the girl did know that at some point she'd have to look down to find a spot to land. The idea dizzied her. Naminé could feel her feet slipping, although they hadn't moved from safely hugging the ledge. Ven's voice could be heard from the bedroom after the door creaked open.

"Naminé! Where are you? Naminé!"

His feet pounded out into the hallway and out of earshot. Naminé feared he'd come back; she dared not enter the room again.

 _You need to jump._

A few deep gulps of air and an unnecessary amount of time later, when Naminé was about to jump, she could hear a pair of large doors opening on the ground. Its closure sent vibrations through the wall and jarred Naminé's legs. Someone had entered the garden. Uselessly holding her breath, she waited until the newcomer was in view and prayed that they wouldn't see her. When they came into view, Naminé's breath left her completely as she stared in sheer terror.

It wasn't a some _one_ , rather, a some _thing_. A monster on all fours ambled along the path circling the fountain. The beast sat like a dog before it, either admiring the mermaids or plotting to destroy them. Naminé could see it was almost as if someone had taken all the most fearsome animals and spliced them into this abomination. With the head of a wolf; mane, tail of a lion; talons of a hawk; hands like…

 _Those hands… I've drawn those hands._

Unlike its hind legs which ended in paws, the being's front legs ended in furry appendages. Naminé could almost see it in her mind: the pieces she'd done of those hands countless times when she was trying to create human hands.

"It can't be!" Naminé let her words slip and slapped her hand over her mouth. Of course, the monster heard her. Its head locked on to her direction. She couldn't tell if it was hungry, angry, or curious. The wolf-lion was too far away. Still staring, Naminé tried edging the rail, and she misplaced one of her heels. A shrill yelp tore through her throat as Naminé fell. The railing got farther and farther away while the sky waved goodbye.

 _ **No!**_

There was no time to make peace. All Naminé could do was flail and scream, knowing the beast would devour her splattered corpse after she hit the ground.

 _I don't want to die! Someone, help me!_

Something struck her back, but it was not earth. It was soft, squishy, like a living thing. Naminé turned over, dazed from the plummet, heart pounding. For a while, Naminé just laid there trying to regain stability. She laid on the fluffy surface, inhale after exhale, and closed her eyes.

 _I'm alive… You're okay…_

Naminé opened her eyes to see she was mounted on a creature. Its canine-like head swiveled around to blink at her. Now closer, Naminé saw its ears were curled into a sort of horn shape. It had whiskers, and gorgeous, entrancing golden eyes. They penetrated Naminé's eyes, into her entire existence. She felt naked, like this creature could tell everything about her just by looking.

"You saved me?"

It nodded its head.

"Why?"

A blink.

"Can you talk?"

That's when she noticed something silver gleaming around its neck, coming up to wrap around its chin.

"What's this? A collar? Here, I'll get it off."

Obvious panic sparked in its expression.

"What? It's because you helped me, so I'm going to help you!"

The collar slipped off its jaw with a tug, and almost instantly, the beast's pupils dilated, and it lunged for her. It snarled as it gnashed its fangs at her legs draped over its side. Naminé yelped, and again, the doors to the garden opened.

"Ventus!" Naminé called for him.

"Hold on!"

Naminé felt the creature turn its head to glower at Ventus. It lunged for him with Naminé gripping tightly onto its mane. Ventus rolled to the side, undoing his cloak and holding it out in front of him. The clothe shimmered and caught the monster's eye. Its rage subsided and Ventus motioned for Naminé to get off and come near him. As slowly as possible, she came down and landed lightly on the cobblestone. She kept her eyes on the animal as she made her way over to Ventus; it hadn't noticed her.

"Okay," Ventus spoke hushedly, "I need you to hold my cape like this while I get the collar back on."

"What? Are you insane?"

"Just do it. Trust me."

"Says the man who kidnapped me and brought me to In-The-Middle-Of-Nowhere Castle!"

"Naminé, please! Do you want to die?"

A pause, then she nodded and took the garment. Ventus crept over to the danger. Naminé trembled terribly, making light bounce off of the runes and distracting it. The way the golden eyes stared at her sent a cold jolt up her backside.

"Veeen…" she whispered nervously through her teeth, "Just… graaaab iiiit…"

Ventus ignored her, taking his sweet time in sluggishly reaching for the metal band. An inaudible gasp reached Naminé's lips when his fingers finally grasped it. The collar met the creature's chin and seemed to snap back into place by some unseen force. Its eyes returned to normal, and its body visibly relaxed. Ventus put a hand on the being's side and gave a loud huff.

"Goddamn, Naminé. Why the hell did you do that?"

The creature eyed Ventus thoughtfully, as if remembering who he was. Naminé's curiosity was piqued, but not enough to make her forget where she was. She turned and ran. There were gates on the opposite end of the garden, possibly a way out. No one stopped her, as no one needed to. The door was boarded up, nailed shut, and when she tried to pry a plank of wood away, something zapped her hand. Naminé looked behind her in a panic. Ventus was rubbing the monster's back, not paying her any mind. She could sense the golden eyes on her from here.

 _I can't leave. Why won't they let me leave? Do they want to kill me? No, if they wanted me dead Ventus could've killed me in my shop._

Ventus looked at her.

 _What do you want from me?_


	4. Chapter 4

_An owl screeched as it descended upon its prey. Somewhere off in the distance, a wolf called to its pack and readied the hunting party. The stars anticipatingly watched Blackberry. Night had fallen, and so had Ventus's spirits._

 _After the baby was taken away, Ventus lost himself in a fit of squirming and crying. It was very unbecoming for a prince to throw a temper tantrum, so the king and queen believed. Roxas bided, contained himself, calmly standing by while nursemaids picked up Ventus and carried him kicking and screaming back to their bedroom. He entered second, and said nothing when their bedroom door was locked, on the outside, as it was designed to._

 _Ventus beat against Roxas's chest, bawling, demanding how Roxas couldn't do anything to stop them. Again, Roxas was silent. The prince didn't even embrace his brother or attempt to subdue him. Finally Ventus abandoned the effort, laid on his bed facing away from Roxas, and fell asleep. Roxas checked to make sure he was definitely passed out, and made his way to the window between their two beds. It wasn't locked, since no one expected either of the boys to jump out a fifth story window._

 _Frigid air sliced through Roxas's cloak. He shivered, drawing it tighter around him, and stepped out onto the ledge. Roxas didn't think to close the window behind him. Determination took away the ability. The little prince had only one thing on his mind:_ get her back _._

 _Well, that, and_ don't fall _._

 _The yard, what could only be thousands of feet beyond Roxas's reach, was less than comforting. Birds rooted in the trees, slumbering out of sight. If he could see them, they'd be the size of a flea. It dizzied Roxas, and again the boy wished there were more footholds. All he had to work with was a narrow rim. There was nothing in the cold, stone wall for Roxas to grab, nothing jutting out saying "You can hold on to me! I won't let you fall!" He so wished there was another way, but he'd given up picking the bedroom lock months ago._

* * *

Ventus stroked the creature in a loving way, but not as if it were a pet. There was some sort of respect, a kind of affection one would show to a sibling or a friend. He didn't look down on this beast, that much was clear. Naminé, still by the garden's sealed exit, kept her eyes on them, waiting. She had no idea what she was waiting for; she just didn't want to go near the animal and its questionable not-master. Among the terror of what he could possibly need her for, she thought incredulously how Ventus cared for that _thing_ , much less _wasn't afraid of it._ Ventus did, however, acknowledge that it could kill him, and had tried not ten minutes ago, perhaps not for the first time.

 _What the bloody hell is wrong with him?_

Across the cobblestone, Ventus was speaking to it, not that Naminé could hear him. His lips were moving slowly, and his eyes were downcast. Hopefully he was professing his guilt of kidnapping her, she thought bitterly.

"What do you think of her?" he was actually saying, "She came from Blackberry."

The beast half-closed its eyes.

"Her name is Naminé. I think… maybe she can help you."

Again, the wolf-lion looked at Ventus. Naminé couldn't see its expression from where she was. Then it shifted its head to evidently stare at Naminé. She sensed the eyes on her, but it wasn't exact. It was that feeling of being watched when you were almost certain you were completely alone.

 _I need to move. I need to_ do _something._

Swallowing against better judgement, Naminé strode toward the fountain and her captors. She kept her head leveled, though her hands were quivering fists. As she drew near, Naminé saw how utterly _human_ the beast's face was. It was astonished. Granted, the irises of its golden eyes expanded beyond those of a normal person, wide and shimmering. This didn't stop Naminé from seeing true human surprise. She could almost picture it having eyebrows, raised, and a mouth slightly agape. Its maw was open, albeit, lined with imposing fangs that could tear a human in half. Naminé eyed them discreetly for only a second, and was entranced anew by its eyes. This monster, however precarious, had emotions, she could feel it.

"I," Naminé was taken aback by how steady her voice was, "Am not afraid of you."

Ventus smiled genuinely, as though she were a little sister he was proud of, "Who?"

Naminé held out her hand, either to let the creature sniff her hand or to shake its hand, as you always did when you met strangers, "I am not afraid of you."

The creature's eyes wouldn't leave her face.

"But _you_ ," Naminé stared daggers at Ventus, "The sun will rise from the west before I trust _you_."

"Oh, please," Ventus's tone implied her words pained him, "I sincerely don't intend you harm, Naminé.

"Really, Ventus? Is that your real name?"

"Yes, I am Ventus Blackberry."

She shook her head, "I don't believe you. The Blackberry family died off. There's none of them left."

"Where did you hear that?"

"It was the legend of the grounds we built _our_ town on, not the royal family's. Some disease or fire that killed the people and the buildings."

It was Ventus's turn to nod _no_ , "Rumour and speculation. It's true when you say no one would be alive to tell you otherwise."

"And I take it you _do_ know what happened? What, were you one of their servants?"

"I was… well," Ventus glanced to the beast, who had turned away from them and was getting to its feet. Sighing, he went on, "I was the king's son."

Naminé didn't give a gasp of surprise. Rather, she simply said remotely, "A prince?"

"Not exactly… Look, my parents were," Ventus gazed pitifully upon the back of the beast, "Killed. As was the original Blackberry, before your folk showed up. No one lived to tell the real tale. Years passed, the blood was cleansed by the rains as the bodies were picked clean by crows and carried off by wolves. Your town is young, correct?"

"Yes."

"Ah… It couldn't have been long now…"

A moment passed before Ventus shut his eyes tight, the way a child does when they're trying not to cry. Immediately, Naminé's heart softened, and she thought she could believe him. The story could be true. Even if it was, what did that have to do with her?

"Why am I here, Ven?" she asked lightly, debating if it was appropriate to put a hand on his shoulder.

Ventus blinked back the blur in his eyes, "You are going to help him," he nodded in the beast's direction.

The beast, meanwhile, gave the impression he wasn't paying attention to them at all. As he was the first time Naminé saw him, he was pondering the mermaid fountain. She watched it herself for a minute, regarding the pure water spouting from their stone jugs. He had feelings, and could appreciate beauty. That's human, right?

"How am I supposed to help him?"

A shaky laugh, "That's the problem. I don't know." She opened her mouth and he cut her off, "I just know you're the only one who can. Let's leave it at that."

 _There's something he isn't telling me…_

It was no use pressing for more information. If Ventus could kidnap her, who was to say he wouldn't hurt her if she agitated him? Instead, Naminé left Ventus and approached the beast. Ventus made no move to stop her, somewhat stepping aside to let her pass. Naminé sat beside the creature, smoothing her skirts, folding her hands in her lap. He winced at her presence.

"I won't hurt you."

 _Why am I saying that? How_ could _I hurt him?_

And yet, he was leaning a little away from her, like she smelled offensive. Sensing his discomfort, Naminé moved away a few inches. The creature relaxed a fraction. There was tension in his shoulders.

"I am going to help you. You have a heart, and I think, maybe I'm crazy for thinking so, but I think that's a valid enough reason."

Now he was staring at her, the mermaids forgotten.

"I'm trusting you not to hurt me. So, I guess, trust me not to hurt you."

A second so fast it could have split a hair went by. The creature's jaws moved so fast Naminé didn't have time to flinch away. They were suddenly grabbing the back of her dress and swinging her up. Naminé screamed from unexpectedness. The beast was running toward the garden's doors. Swirls of greens swarmed Naminé's vision as she was jostled around in his grasp. She thought she saw Ventus running after them.

"No, stop!" Naminé yelled, recalling the zap she received when she touched the exit, "You'll get hurt!"

He didn't falter. A short distance away from the wall, he leaped as if to make it over. Naminé gasped when an invisible barrier struck the beast. He let out a piercing wail, releasing Naminé and flinging her out of the garden. Naminé landed in some relatively softer-than-dirt bushes. On the other side of the castle's walls, she heard a shrill yelp and a loud thud. Then there was a shout.

" _VANITAS!"_

 _Vanitas?_

Naminé scrambled to get out of the shrubbery. Finally she was on her feet, making her way to the gates. Black ivory, entwined with vines, gave her a spiderwebbed window of the courtyard inside. The beast was lying crookedly on his side, one of his legs bent at an awkward angle. Ventus had his head in his lap, and was stroking his head like he was comforting a crying kid. Naminé couldn't make out what he was saying.

"Why did you do that?" Ventus asked sadly, "She had to be the one."

Gruffly, he replied, "She deserves better."

He propped himself up with one paw, locking eyes with Naminé from beyond the gate. She didn't know how scared her expression was, not of him, but for him. That wasn't the effect he wanted. Naminé's dilemma of whether she should run home or stay to help was decided for her when the beast bared his fangs and let out a roar so unlike anything Naminé ever heard she pivoted, ran, and never looked back.


	5. Chapter 5

_On the adjacent wall, decorative angels perched, impervious to mortal affairs. Their eyes held no warmth, yet they held a certain sadness. It was as though they could foresee a terrible future no one else could. Roxas wished he could see it too as he rested on an angel. He'd managed to cling to the flat wall by sheer will. There were only angels on the front of the castle. Though it was night time, and nobody could possibly see a child dressed in black from that far away, Roxas hid behind the angel's wings. Once he regained his strength, he pressed onward. Roxas hadn't noticed his cloak snagging on the angel's stoney feathers. He lost his footing, and his heart leapt into his throat._

 _A tapestry hanging below the celestial guardians served as Roxas's saving grace. Roxas's fingers burned, his knuckles white, for he_ had _to live. Maybe not for himself, but for Ventus. If Roxas died, the duty to inherit the kingdom would fall on his shoulders, and Roxas would never wish that burden on anyone, especially his brother made of sunshine._

 _Roxas dared to peek down between his arms. There was a balcony, most likely from one of the guest bedrooms. He couldn't risk being spotted by a maid sweeping up or a duke stopping by for evening. Then again, what was the greater risk? Climbing down as he would a ladder, Roxas unclamped his hands and hit the floor with an ungraceful thump. Legs stinging, Roxas peered over the edge._

 _Three floors to go._

* * *

Remarkably, Naminé's blind dash into the woods was the right direction to Blackberry. It was noon when she broke from the brambles, dress torn and arms scratched from thorns. She couldn't help but see the lack of panic in the small town. Undoubtedly, not one person had noticed Naminé was kidnapped, much less missing. An all too familiar ache rose in her chest, the one where she knew she wouldn't be missed if she disappeared, and she had.

 _Welcome home, Lady-Who-Runs-The-Art-Shop._

Tears burned the back of Naminé's eyes. She ran into her shop and slammed the door, ignoring the few pedestrians who saw her crying. Utterly defeated, she sat in the fetal position and wept for a while. Naminé wiped the tears away with the back of her hand.

 _No one to talk to, no one to comfort me, no one to miss me when I'm gone…_

A while passed before her eyes stopped leaking. As Naminé washed her face in the sink, she decided the store would be closed today. She needed time to herself.

 _All you have is time to yourself._

Instead of letting her thoughts get to her, Naminé set up a small canvas, and dipped her brush into her fantasies. The world melted away. Yellows, canary and dandelion, golden and simple, streaked across the material. Auburn circled the center; whites reflected the imaginary sunlight. A black astro in the middle of the browns. Naminé was stunned to find the beast's eyes gleaming back at her. Now her mind focused on him. She'd never encountered such a creature. The largest animal she'd met was the farmer's horse down the road, and that stallion wasn't nearly as powerful as the beast. Was it that Naminé's world was too small for her to have heard of such animals, or was the beast really the only one? She recalled the way he looked at her, _really_ looked at her, a human focusing on an image, not a hound pointing to prey. There was magic in the world, perhaps he'd been human once and was cursed to his current form.

 _Ventus called him "Vanitas"._

"Vanitas…" she said aloud, standing back to fully look at the piece, "Who are you?"

Vanitas plagued her mind, a lyricless song stuck in her head. She wondered where he came from, if Ventus was really telling the truth, and what his connection was to Vanitas. Naminé's biggest concern, oddly enough, was whether or not Vanitas was okay. The way he'd landed, he must have broken his leg, or injured himself pretty badly.

 _It was because of me, wasn't it? He didn't want me to stay… Was it because he didn't like me?_

The thought saddened her, somehow. Vanitas had leaned away from her when she approached him, even went so far as to literally _throw her out_ when she asked him to trust her.

 _Wow… even Vanitas doesn't like me…_

That couldn't be true, could it? Ventus said she could help him. Did she hold some key for him to transform back, if he could?

 _So many questions. And no answers._

As scary as that morning had been, it was ironically the most exciting thing that had happened to Naminé in her entire life. There was mystery, excitement, and the fact that Naminé, in some way, was significant. She was special. She was the _only one_ who could help Vanitas. Perhaps it wasn't in the way she'd hoped for, but Ventus cared about her. She was important to him because she was important to Vanitas. When Vanitas sent her home, Ventus must have panicked. There goes his only hope for… what?

Naminé fell asleep that night with Blackberry Castle on the brain. Her dreamscape was the courtyard. At first, she was alone. It was calm, pleasant. Naminé found herself anxiously searching for Vanitas.

 _Where is he? Is he alright?_

She went to enter the castle, but the doors turned to stone and became part of the wall. Blood racing, Naminé whirled to cry his name. Nothing happened. Then, wind passing through leaves, whispers.

"Gentle claws, open maw."

Without transition, Naminé was standing in the fountain. The mermaids were alive, light dancing off their scales, hair soaked with the fountain's water. They poured it on top of Naminé with their jugs, which were now made of lambskin. One sang to her.

"Pay the price, sacrifice."

Another chimed in.

"Sins of old, eyes of gold."

"What are you saying?" Naminé was still looking for him out of the corner of her eye, "Where is Vanitas?"

"Hearts entwine, sound of mind."

"Apprehend, not defend!"

"Please!" she was suddenly scared, "Tell me what happened to him!"

The half-fish girls smiled at Naminé, teeth serrated like a shark's. Naminé screamed while the water turned crimson and swallowed the mermaids. She leapt out of the fountain to land on a plain field of cobblestone. Fog seemed to cut off her view of the perimeter. Vanitas's roar reverberated throughout. He was chasing her, though she wasn't moving. He ran at her from all directions, never getting any closer or farther. Sobs tore through Naminé when she realized he was bleeding profusely.

 _Why do I care so much?_

Naminé ran to him after he collapsed. His fur felt the same as it did when he saved her in the garden.

"Vanitas? Hello? Please, say something! Tell me you're alright!"

 _Kill it._

 _Kill the beast._

 _Before it kills you._

 _It will kill you._

 _Don't you understand?_

 _It._

 _Will._

 _Kill._

 _You._

 _Just like it did before._


	6. Chapter 6

_Roxas was bruised all over by the time his feet met the ground. Sunrise was pursuing him. Everyone would wake up soon. He must hurry. Thankfully, the guards posted at the castle gate did not take note of Roxas. They might have thought him to be a servant or a bard departing from the maids' entrance to the side. If they had caught him, it could have changed everything._

 _Being Prince of Blackberry, Roxas was required to have a cognitive map of the kingdom that was soon to be his. This village was simply the closest to the castle, one out of many outskirting the country. Roxas knew it well, had walked along the streets in a grand parade announcing the new heir. Ventus wasn't there. After all, there need be only one. Everybody knew there was another prince, it didn't matter. It infuriated Roxas. Why couldn't they rule together as brothers? Why must Ventus be written off? The poor boy was considered lucky to even receive his mother's affection. And now another child won't even know she's their mother._

I'm about to change that.

 _The bow-legged woman who had taken the baby away was in front of her orphanage, sweeping up before it was time to open. Roxas knew Ventus must hate her, but Roxas couldn't bring himself to. She was only doing her job, most likely under payment and personal request of the king. However, Roxas also knew she could be executed for willingly letting the baby go. He gripped the dagger in his sleeve and approached._

" _Excuse me, ma'am. I would like to see the children."_

 _She looked at him with raised eyebrows, "Such a high voice, you are too young to_ _adopt!"_

" _I must see them. My parents wish me to acquaintance them before they come to select my new sibling."_

" _Well, we are not open yet."_

" _Please, miss? I'm anxious to meet my new family member."_

" _Oh, alright. Only because you have such good manners."_

 _Roxas loathed himself for what he was about to do, though he learned a long time ago that royal blood means making sacrifices. When the lady closed the door behind her inside the orphanage, Roxas pulled out the dagger and undid his hood. She gave a quiet gasp when the boy poised it at her throat._

" _P-Prince Roxas!"_

" _You know what I'm here for. Your blood will paint this blade if you don't obey."_

" _What are you going to do to her?"_

" _That's none of your concern. Worry about what I will do to you. I am the heir of Blackberry. The king would have no choice but to dismiss it if I were to commit murder."_

 _The word 'murder' pushed the woman over the line. Shaking horribly, she went into the back room, Roxas trailing behind. Roxas looked at the children out of his peripheral. He pitied them, related to them. They wanted a normal life, a family, someone to hold them and tell them everything would be okay. None of them were asked to grow up so young._

 _They'd reached the infants' room. Roxas picked out his half-sibling instantly. The woman took the babe against her bosom with plain love._

" _She's still asleep…" she whispered, eyes half-lidded, "How could such a miracle be so shameful?"_

 _Roxas paused, "What did you name her?"_

 _A sad smile, "Vanity."_

Ironic, " _It's a beautiful name."_

* * *

Naminé had awoken that morning with the sole desire to see Vanitas. Without thinking, mechanically, she packed clothes into a suitcase. She had gone to don her coat, then remembered Ventus. Before she left, Naminé fashioned a leg-sheath out of some leather strips from her boots. Paint rag in her pocket and meat-knife on her thigh, Naminé now stood before the forest preceding Blackberry Castle.

Time stood still. Naminé thought of her art shop, of her masterpieces that supposedly held her heart. Could she stand to leave those behind? It was her sanctuary.

 _Where I hide from the rest of the world and wonder why no one will talk to me._

Maybe Naminé could stay, try to socialize more, make friends. She could have a normal life, that normal people have, of making money and going out to spend it.

Or, go to the not-normal castle in the middle of the not-normal woods to see the not-normal animal and the questionably not-normal guy that kidnapped her.

 _Vanitas…_

Naminé pulled up her hood and plunged into the black, twisting trees.

* * *

The ballroom was like a prism in the morning. The sun hit the large stained glass windows at just the right angle and cast little bits of their color all about the room. Ventus used to call it "The Rainbow Room" when he was younger. In his mind he could picture the glamourous parties his parents held. Royalty and commoners alike would gather in their best dress and dance until dawn. Couples proposed to each other in this great hall. Children would sneak treats from the buffet table. Ventus and Roxas would dance with the villagers while their parents talked to honored guests.

That was a long time ago. The floor did not shine anymore. It wasn't dusty (Ventus would clean when he got bored) but it was overdue for a good polishing. A chandelier, once breathtaking and adorned with roiling designs, hung lifelessly in the center of the ceiling, rusted over with years of no use. One had to squint to make out the painting of clouds and angels around it. Whenever Ventus came in here, it was like visiting an elderly relative; you could see their youth through the shimmer of age. The energy was drained from this place. No one had danced or even so much as laughed here since Roxas's crowning ceremony as Prince.

Vanitas, unlike his brother, had no memories of this place. Balls were not held after his birth. If they were, he wouldn't have been permitted to attend. He came to look at the vibrant windows, only slightly cracked. The windows showed a story, of the mighty King Blackberry slaying an evil beast that terrorized the land.

Both brothers sat on the floor before the windows. Ventus had his hand on Vanitas's side. The wolf-lion's broken leg remained painfully twisted. Human medical practises had no effect on him.

"Why did you have to send her away? And in such a rude way."

"She could have a life, Ven. I'm not a good enough reason to take her away from it."

"But she could give _you_ a life! The witch never said she couldn't go back."

"Yes, but she never said she could either. That old hag was incredibly vague."

"She helped." Ventus offered.

"Whatever."

Birds called outside. Only deer and wolves were smart enough to stay away from the castle. They could detect Vanitas's scent, and knew it meant danger. Smaller animals always seemed curious what it was. The birds' song was incredibly monotonous. It was the same every morning.

Except for today. Today it was interrupted by a faint cry.

Ventus was already on his feet, "Do you think…?"

Vanitas was already bolting out the door.

"Vanitas, stop!" Ventus panted, sprinting to catch up to him, though he was falling behind, "You don't know what will happen!"

He ignored his brother. His bulky form slammed open the front doors into the courtyard. Vanitas was at the gates when Ventus was in the doorway. He yelled over his shoulder.

"Get inside, now!"

"Vani, please! You could…"

Ventus's eyes widened when Vanitas reached up to his collar, "Now, Ven."

Furrowing his brow, Ventus closed the door. Vanitas waited until he heard the lock catch before snapping the metal from his chin. Instantly, his mind began slipping.

 _No, hold on!_

Vanitas leapt over the garden wall. Nothing stopped him. He listened for another scream. Indeed, it came from the direction to Blackberry. Vanitas didn't hesitate to gallop toward it.

 _I'm coming! I'm coming! Please be okay!_

There was a clearing ahead. Huddled dark shapes crowded a pale figure on the ground. It was covered in red. Vanitas roared as he drew near. The dark shapes turned out to be a wolf pack. They bared their fangs and snarled at him. Being almost twice their size, Vanitas felt no fear in attacking them. His claws slashed through their pelts. The smell of their blood only fogged Vanitas's mind further.

 _No, no, no!_

Vanitas's pupils became smaller than the period in a book, dangerously close to becoming wholly golden. A carnivorous spirit overcame him, and he no longer could think. The wolves sensed a change in him, yet did not falter. One leapt to latch onto Vanitas's scruff. He reared to catch the wolf in his jaws and snap its leg. Its whine hurt his ears. Vanitas opened his maw like a snake, challenging the wolves to try again. A few attempted to advance and attack from the sides in a pincer attack. Each met wounds that would kill them within the hour. Vanitas had more than enough scratches and bites. The pack took off limping with their tails between their legs.

"Vanitas…?" a weak voice spoke up.

The beast whirled to the pale figure on the ground. He recognized her. She confused his besital instincts; he didn't immediately see her as prey. Was she a packmate? But she looked nothing like him. Vanitas flattened his ears, bending closer to sniff her. She smelled sweet, like flowers. In a flashing movement, the girl grabbed the annoying piece of metal around his neck. Vanitas let out a growl and snapped his jaws on her shoulder. He held on, and so did she. She whimpered in pain, bringing the collar up. An unseen force clicked it into place, and Vanitas's eyes returned to normal. He blinked a few times, releasing her arm. Her blood tasted like honey. He was disturbed by how much he liked it.

"Naminé…" his large hand came up to touch her arm but flinched back, "I…"

"You saved me," she gave a tired smile. Vanitas's heart pounded as he looked over her body. The wolves had torn off her coat, other clothes and an open suitcase were strewn about, all stained with her blood. Her dress was in shreds, as were her legs. Wolf claws were sharper than they looked. The bites, though, were nothing compared to Vanitas's.

"Vanitas…" his heart quicked at her smile, "You're alright…"

 _What?_

Naminé closed her eyes. She must have been exhausted, fighting the forest.

… _It happened again…_

Solemnly, he blinked at the mess. The wolf blood, his blood, what was the difference? They were both bloodthirsty monsters. Somehow Vanitas could make out Naminé's blood. It smelled different, looked different. Vanitas called, a howl Ventus knew all too well. He would come carry Naminé back. Vanitas dared not touch her. Even when he laid next to her body to make sure nothing would come harm her, he made sure not even the tips of his pelt were grazing her skirts.

 _Stupid girl._


	7. Chapter 7

_The queen wept fearful tears. The king stood beside her, face as red as the tapestry above his bed. Standing in the doorway of the royal master bedroom was their son, the heir. He held a bundle with a babe inside in one arm, a weapon in the other. Roxas clutched Vanity to his chest; he poised the dagger at his nape._

" _Son…" the queen breathed, "Please…"_

 _Her husband said nothing._

 _Something burned in Roxas when he looked at his mother. He was too young to know the name for the feeling. It didn't feel good, that was for sure. Years later Roxas would name the emotion: disgust._

" _She's my sister."_

 _The king flared, "She's a whore's bastard!"_

 _When the king tried to take a step forward, Roxas pressed the blade into his skin. A bead of red seeped through. The queen gasped and the king froze._

" _She stays," Roxas continued, voice steady, "Or I go."_

 _A barking, cruel laugh the king gave, "You think you are so valuable? Expendable! You have a brother. He can take your place."_

" _And what, start from scratch?" Roxas smiled, "I can fight, barter, pretend, compromise, defend, and destroy. You've made the perfect heir. Would you throw that away for a baby?"_

" _What would our allies think? Blackberry is a pure bloodline, are we going to taint it for that thing?"_

" _You will, or your kingdom goes to a child who can't even win a game of chess."_

" _Ha! Foolish boy, who said I couldn't get a new heir?"_

 _It was Roxas's turn to laugh, "A new heir? Old man, you've left your prime years. Your balls are probably small and wrinkled, much like a raisin, only they taste like shite."_

 _That stunned them just fine._

" _Even if you_ could _somehow reproduce with that sad excuse of a set, who said you could live long enough to raise it and teach it properly? Age will take you if disease doesn't. Your breeding sow of a queen could bear children for, say, another decade or so, but you, old coot? Everyone knows you're done for."_

 _The king regained his whit somewhat, gritting his teeth like a hound. Roxas flashed his teeth right back._

" _So, do we have a deal?"_

* * *

"What do you mean, she had a knife?"

"Look, I had to cut part of her skirt off so I could clean the claw marks. I found a knife on her thigh."

"Then why the hell didn't she use it on the wolves?"

Ventus shrugged, "Who knows? Maybe she didn't want to hurt them."

Vanitas's ears flipped back as he squinted at the girl laying on the bed beside them, "You took it, right?"

"It's in the armory."

They were in the castle's infirmary, on the highest floor with the bedrooms. Ventus had laid her on the bed next to the far window and immediately began treating her wounds. When Ventus began lifting Naminé's skirt, Vanitas quickly turned around and waited until he heard Ventus say it was okay to look. Thank goodness he couldn't blush through his fur. Nothing was said between Ventus and Vanitas until now.

"Will she be alright?"

"I did the best I could."

"Wouldn't she have had better treatment in Blackberry?"

Ventus placed a hand on his heart, "You wound me! Are you saying I'm not a good doctor?"

Vanitas shoved Ventus lightly, "You know what I mean."

"Well, we have better quality medicine, but I'm no professional, so…" Ventus shrugged, "Just wait until she wakes up, alright? I'm gonna get into some clean clothes."

"Yeah, blood-red doesn't suit you."

"Very funny. I'll be back."

The door swung shut behind Ventus, and Vanitas was left alone with Naminé. He regarded her in a way he would a cockroach.

 _Such a weird girl. Why didn't she use her knife? More importantly… why did she come back?_

Naminé turned in her sleep and gave a sharp cry. It gave Vanitas's heart a jump. It was the kind of jolt you felt when you dropped something heavy; the terror that you'd broken it.

"... Naminé?" Vanitas put a clawed hand on the edge of her bed, "Are you alright?"

"Vanitas?"

Her eyes slowly opened. The way her hair clouded around her face when she turned to look at him made his heart bounce.

"Um, yeah. How do you know my name?"

"I heard… Ventus…"

"Hey, hey, don't talk, okay? You need to rest."

"I'm fine."

Naminé went to sit up and yelped. Vanitas gingerly pushed her back onto the bed, "You're not fine. You were a fucking idiot and took on a pack of wolves by yourself, and you didn't even use a goddamn weapon, _which you had_ , and - - "

"I didn't want to hurt them!" she blinked slowly, vainly trying to stay awake, "My things, were they…?"

 _Of all the things to care about, you want to know if your_ clothes _are okay?_ "They were destroyed. Don't worry, Ven will get you new clothes."

"Screw Ventus."

"Hey, he saved your life, you ungrateful girl!" Vanitas snapped.

"No… you did."

Vanitas stilled.

"You drove the wolves away… You hurt them, but… I guess it couldn't have been helped."

"I could have killed you," he whispered.

"Yeah, but you didn't."

Grimacing, Vanitas got to his feet, "Whatever. I'll let you get back to sleep."

As he went to leave, Naminé reached out and grabbed a tuft of his fur. Vanitas stared at her with wide eyes.

"N-No… please stay," she could barely get her words out.

It took him a moment to process what she said, and her hand still on him. No one touched him except for Ventus, "You want me to stay?"

"Yes."

"You're not afraid of me?"

She giggled weakly, "If I wasn't so tired, I'd be pissing my pants."

 _Ven also wrapped you in his cape…_ "Oh."

"Please?"

"You're delirious. You don't want me to stay. You don't want me anywhere near you, Naminé."

It was then Ventus returned in a shirt without bloodstains on it. He glanced at Naminé with a cheerful expression, "Oh, you're awake!"

"Yeah… thanks."

"Ven," Vanitas interrupted, "What kind of shit did you use on her?"

"Nothing too strong, just a painkiller and some disinfectant, why?"

"She's high as a kite."

"No, I'm not," Naminé smiled playfully, "You're just in denial."

"I am not!" Vanitas growled.

Ventus said quickly, "It's probably a mix of fatigue, drugs, and blood loss. She's not… at her best. I'll give you that. But her judgement shouldn't be too impaired."

Naminé's grin grew wider in triumph. Vanitas mouthed the words "fuck you" to Ventus as he smirked and tucked the covers to Naminé's chin.

"Get some sleep, clean clothes and warm food will await you when you awaken."

She shied away from his hands. Vanitas gave a low grunt-laugh, "Yep, you're right, her judgement is fine."

Ventus threw up his hands in defeat, once again going to another room. A silence settled in the room. The wolf-lion had hoped Naminé fell asleep, yet another part of him had hoped she remained awake. It wasn't necessarily that he liked talking to her; he just liked talking to someone that was new. Vanitas loved Ventus, but having someone new to talk to was exhilarating, refreshing, even exciting. At the same time, she irritated him without saying a word. Vanitas wanted nothing and everything to do with her. What an odd situation.

"... Do you want me to stay?"

Naminé was teetering on the edge of consciousness. All she offered as an answer was a muffled, "mhrm." He rolled his eyes and settled himself next to her bed.

"I'll stay 'til you fall asleep, alright?"

A protesting whine.

"Fine, I'll just stay until you say I can go, okay? God, you're annoying."

 _It's not like I have anything better to do._

With that, Vanitas rested his head on his paws and closed his eyes. An hour or so later, he was awoken by a whimper. Vanitas quickly stood up to see Naminé shaking violently in her bed. This snapped him to attention. He howled.

"Hey, are you alright? Naminé, answer me!"

"What's going on?" Ventus came in, having just woken up as well from a nap, "What's wrong?"

"Ven, what's wrong with her?" Vanitas's voice was panicked.

Ventus blinked, "It's just a small tremor, probably fever or the painkillers. She's fine."

"How do I stop it?"

"Heat, I guess? Vani, you really don't need to do anything, really. Relax. Call me when something is actually wrong."

Vanitas watched Ventus depart. He was still worried about Naminé. A moment passed before Vanitas climbed onto Naminé's bed and laid next to her, making sure not to crush her already bruised bones.

 _I feel like a fucking cur._

Despite Vanitas's discomfort, Naminé gradually quit trembling. She even curled closer to Vanitas. Heat radiated from his fur like a miniature sun. He scoffed, placing his head next to hers, facing the wall, and trying to ignore her hands fisted in his mane.


	8. Chapter 8

_Weeks had passed since then. Vanity was set up to stay with the twins in their room. Her crib rested between their beds, in front of the window Roxas used to escape. The nursemaid was especially fond of Vanity; next to the two brothers, she was the only one to care for Vanity. She stopped by every few hours to feed Vanity goat milk, change her diaper, and sing her to sleep. Ventus paid attention to Vanity like a new toy. He was always excited to see her. Roxas scolded him, saying he must never wake a sleeping baby. Still, Roxas was happy to see Ventus so thrilled._

 _The boys had reconciled when Roxas returned with Vanity that night. Ventus didn't know about Roxas's dagger, and was told the little red dot on Roxas's neck was a bite from an insect. All Ventus needed to know was Vanity was here to stay, as far as Roxas was concerned. It was strange how much Roxas shielded Ventus from the outside world, when brothers of the same age should normally be on equal levels of knowledge. Roxas was Ventus's older brother, more in spirit rather than time: they were born seconds apart._

 _Now there was little Vanity. Ventus had every right to be excited that he could be an older brother now. The boy never considered being a middle child, just an elder. Instead of following Roxas's ever-growing shadow, he could teach Vanity things. He had a little buddy. Selfishly, Ventus also considered his parents' not wanting Vanity as much as they didn't want Ventus. The two of them could play together while Roxas learned to be king. Whether or not Roxas wanted to play too didn't matter. Their paths were set for them._

 _Unfortunately, not so._

 _Vanity was seen as a nuisance, if she was seen at all. The king never acknowledged her presence; the queen would give common courtesy, but never any love. Vanity may not have been true royalty, however, they failed to recognize Vanity as more than a problem. She was also a person. She was a little rain cloud, growing larger and darker as the heat rose and the winds picked up._

 _There were little rain showers, true. Vanity was naturally smart. She taught herself to read with nursery books she found from the library. It was not unfathomable to Vanity that she wasn't wanted. When she was young, she had no clue the queen was her mother. When she learned the truth, her half-brothers tried very hard to convince her it was wrong for parents to not love their children, that this wasn't how it was meant to be. The concept was vague, though it was there. Still, an ache welled inside her heart. Years of neglect fed the curse before she was even vexed._

 _No one could have prepared for the true storm._

* * *

"Naminé?"

Vanitas's voice echoed as if he were spelunking. It flabbergasted him, partly because he was certainly not in a cave. The sky was black, deeper than any cloudy night he'd ever seen. There were no stars or a moon to light his way. He really couldn't see anything. Without sight, he had to rely on touch to guess where he was. Something wet, probably water, reached his ankles. It was colder than an autumn breeze. Vanitas went to rub his arms to warm himself, and felt skin instead of fur. Eyes wide, he reached up to touch his face: human nose, human lips, and when he went past the lips, he found human molars, not fangs. His heart fluttered. No wonder he was standing on two legs. The joy immediately dissipated as Vanitas placed his hands on his chest.

"Vanitas…"

His head snapped up, trance broken, "Naminé! Where are you?"

A few meters away, Naminé's white silhouette appeared like a tinder lighting a candle. She flickered brighter than flames. Vanitas felt tears sting his eyes as all of the ugly melted away. This was the right body, he felt it. It changed because of her. He didn't know why; he only knew.

"Naminé," his voice skipped, "I…"

Vanitas's voice trailed off. Naminé's chest had started… moving. Something was shifting around under her skin. He looked frantically from her collarbone to her face. The blank expression on Naminé's face scared Vanitas more than reality.

"Naminé!"

The name was almost a cue. Whatever was beneath Naminé's skin sprouted from the center, right in between her breast. Somewhat shaped like hands, it spread apart, rather, ripped open Naminé's chest. Vanitas's stomach flopped in response to the sound of her rib-cage shattering and her skin tearing.

"Naminé, what's happening?"

Naminé smiled, and her lips split. Blood dribbled down her chin to join the red streaming down her dress. The thing inside her shoved everything in her torso out. Lungs, liver, intestines, stomach… all of it splashed down into the water at their feet. It swelled like ingredients in a stew, taking their color.

"Vanitas," Naminé crooned. Vanitas blinked hard, "Where is my heart?"

"I - -"

Something was in Vanitas's hand. It was slimy, squishy, even. The thing pulsed rhythmically. Vanitas saw the red slob of flesh and initially wanted to vomit. Disgust morphed into hunger. He sensed an undeniable urge to eat it.

"N-Naminé… what am I…"

"It's alright."

Vanitas screamed. Looking at her face, he didn't see her eyes. He saw the monster's. They were solid gold. No pupils, no expression, no mercy.

"They deserved it."

* * *

"... V… Vani… Vanitas! Vanitas! _Vanitas_!"

Vanitas opened his eyes panting. If he had sweat glands, he'd be drenched. Feverishly, Vanitas scanned his surroundings. Ventus had his hand on Vanitas's shoulder. He must have shaken him awaken. They were in the castle's infirmary. Vanitas was on a bed, next to…

"Naminé…" Vanitas breathed.

She was sound asleep, on her side from being snuggled up to his fur. Ventus had changed her bandages at some point, they were no longer stained deep red. Despite his pounding heart, Vanitas felt above anything else relief that she was alright.

"Vani…" Ventus sighed sympathetically.

"She needs to go back. Now."

"Um, Vani - -"

"Don't fight me on this, Ven. I'll take her back myself if I have to."

"Vani - -"

"Ven - -"

" _VANITAS!_ "

The yell got Vanitas's attention. Ventus never raised his voice like that. It was more than concerned. There was fear in his tone.

"One, we can't move her, her injuries are too severe. She has to stay at least until she recovers," Ventus licked his lips, a nervous habit, "And… two, look down."

Vanitas cocked his head to the side and obeyed. At first, he didn't see anything unordinary. Then, Ventus took one of Vanitas's front legs and held it up. The same heart-breaking feeling from the dream came back. In his sleep, Vanitas's hands had been replaced by paws akin to his hind legs'.

"The transformation is complete," Ventus sounded close to tears.

"That doesn't mean anything."

He nodded, "You're right. We found her, it will all be over soon."

"... That's not what I mean."

"Vani - -"

"No, you can stop right there. She's going home, Ven. And you're leaving."

Ventus was quiet for a moment, "What?"

"This is done. It's over. We can't keep doing this," Vanitas took a deep breath, "You ought to be married, have kids by now. Naminé might even have a fiancee, or children, we don't know!"

"I didn't see any family when I - -"

"Let me finish. This is it. We found the pure heart. And?"

"... And?"

"Nothing happened. If anything, it sped up the process. There's no hope for me, Ven. I'm going to lose myself and nothing's going to stop it."

"You can't mean that."

Vanitas bared his fangs, "I mean every word. When she's fully healed, both of you go, and this collar comes off."

"Doesn't it matter what she has to think too? She came back on her own, she wants to help!"

"I can't be helped."

"Vanitas, I can't let you go through with this! All these years we've been together, all this time we've been holding on, and you're just going to… let it go? Let me… go?"

"Ven, I love you. You know I do. That's why I'm doing this."

Ventus's lip began to quiver.

"Be honest. How much time does she have?"

A shaky breath, "If she doesn't get an infection, a week, maybe two."

"Good."

"I - -"

Ventus didn't even get to finish. He pivoted and ran out the door. A pain rooted itself in Vanitas. This was the truth of things. Nothing could stop it. Vanitas looked at Naminé and wished to God something could stop it. As he attempted to get up, Naminé grabbed hold of his scruff.

"Please… stay…" she gasped.

"Naminé…"

"Let… me… stay."

The wolf-lion said nothing, just laid down and kept her warm, though she warmed him in a way he desperately hoped he could return.


	9. Chapter 9

" _Do I have to wear that?"_

" _Well, all prim and proper young ladies wear dresses."_

" _That's not… I'm not…"_

" _Oh, dear," the nursemaid smiled sadly and sat on the edge of Vanity's bed next to her. She tucked a strand piece of hair behind her hair, "I know you're not exactly a princess, but you still live among royalty. You must at least attempt to appear… formal."_

" _But…"_

" _Come now, Vanity! You're such a beautiful girl! A gorgeous young woman! Why not express that beauty? Dress up a little? Maybe it will get you some attention, or make you feel better."_

" _Um, no thanks. Wearing pants makes me comfortable."_

" _But Vanity, every girl wears skirts. I don't mean to say it's wrong, though you really ought to not wear trousers like your brothers'."_

 _Vanity wasn't listening to her. She blinked hard, trying her very best to hold it together in front of the one woman who looked after her. Gratifyingly, the nursemaid eventually excused herself to some brunch with the other servants. All Vanity could do in response to the nursemaid's invitation to join them was a shaking of the head. When the door clicked shut behind her, Vanity broke the dam and let the flood loose. Years of practice honed Vanity's ability to sob without a sound. No one came into the bedroom to see what all the fuss was about. Roxas was downstairs in his royal lessons; Ventus was… somewhere. She was alone. The only company she had was her reflection in the standing mirror across the room. It made her cry harder._

 _Indeed, Vanity was a breathtakingly attractive young woman, not an adult yet, but definitely not a child. Despite lack of recognition as a real princess, girls envied her for her appearance alone. Her eyes were large, hiding behind naturally thick eyelashes. Vanity never put on makeup, which people didn't believe. Glossy black hair flowed down her back. It had luscious volume and a slight wave: the kind of hair wig stylists used tubs of wax to create. The prettiness didn't end at the face, either. A perfect hourglass figure would have looked perfect in any and all of the slimming dresses Vanity's nursemaid gave her. Yet, this body, this beauty, was the ugliest thing in the world to Vanity._

 _Wiping her tears with the back of her hand, Vanity gazed at her reflection mournfully. She held her hair the same way her mother had held her when she was an infant. It only helped a cause she opposed._

" _Vanity?"_

 _The girl jumped. She hadn't noticed Ventus coming in._

" _Hey, what's wrong?" Ventus, always the caring big brother, sat down next to her and held her tight, "Did something happen?"_

 _She didn't return the embrace, "Ven?"_

" _What's up?"_

" _... Do you know where the seamstress keeps her scissors?"_

* * *

Naminé came to before she opened her eyes. She almost wasn't sure if she was awake or dreaming. The painkillers Ventus had given her left her mind a little fuzzy, but she no longer felt delirious and giggly. It took what felt like half an hour for her to blink. Sight returned slowly. She saw she was in a stone room. A vivid mural of unicorns hung on the wall opposite her bed, a paned window neighboring it. Through it whispered a cool refreshing breeze.

 _I must be back in the castle…_

Of course, when she tried to get out of bed, white-hot pain made her lay back down. Naminé let out a little yelp, then sighed.

 _I guess I'm staying here for a while._

She didn't know if the thought relaxed her or made her nervous; her heart was racing either way. There wasn't a choice. At least she had a lot of pillows to keep her comfortable. A large plushy one propped her up, a furry black one…

 _That's not a pillow._

Time stood still when Naminé saw Vanitas. She vaguely recalled talking to him during her haze. The last clear memory she had was encountering some wolves. Vanitas came running to rescue her, and then… and then…

Vanitas startled Naminé _,_ gruffing and turning his head to face her. He wasn't so gruesome in his sleep. Right now he looked kind of like a dog. Albeit, an enormous, feral one - - most certainly not man's best friend.

"Wait, what?"

The golden eyes snapped open and locked onto her. Neither of them moved. Naminé hadn't meant to speak aloud and silently cursed herself. Vanitas just stared at her expectantly, not entirely bothered she disturbed his slumber.

"U-um…" Naminé cleared her throat, "Good morning?"

"Morning."

A long pause, "... Why are you in my bed?"

"Technically, I am only _on_ your bed, since the covers aren't making me _in_ the bed."

"I could really do without the sarcasm so early in the morning."

"Actually, it's probably afternoon by now."

"Afternoon? How long have I been out?"

"A few days."

" _A few days?!"_

"Yeah," Vanitas yawned, "Those wolves really messed you up."

"Oh! Y-yeah, th - - "

"Do you want me to get off?"

"Huh?"

"Do you want me to get off your bed?"

"I - - what?"

"... I think I'll take that as a yes," Vanitas stood up and hopped off the bed, taking a minute to stretch, "Forgive me, I'll never be on, or in, your bed, ever again."

"Wait, huh? Why?"

He cocked his head to the side, "Do you mean to say you _want_ me in your bed?"

Naminé's cheeks flushed, "No, that's not what I - - "

"Careful, your injuries are pretty severe. I'll go get Ven."

As his tail slipped out the door, Naminé sat there staring incredulously at the ceiling, wondering what the hell just happened. She wasn't permitted long enough; Ventus entered the room soon after Vanitas left. In his hands was a tray. A pitcher full of milk, a fancy set of tableware, and the hot breakfast on them made Naminé's stomach groan. Seventy-two hours without a proper meal will do that to anyone.

"How are you feeling?" Ventus asked, setting the tray on Naminé's lap, "You need to eat."

Naminé couldn't consider the food being compromised. If it was poisoned, she couldn't tell. The toast was buttery and thick, the berries sweet and juicy. Should she die by this luxuriously heavenly food, so be it. Ventus waited politely while she ate.

"I feel so much better now, thank you."

He beamed, "I'm glad to hear it! You're all bandaged up; all you need to do now is rest."

"Thank you, Ven," Naminé dabbed her mouth with a napkin, "I mean it."

"Y-You're welcome. You won't really be able to move for a while, though I got you new clothes."

"No, I have my own, they're…"

"I'm sorry, we couldn't save them."

Naminé sighed, "Well, thanks."

"You'll also need to bathe. It'll hurt, a lot. Moving will be hard and your wounds will sting. If you need some help - - "

And just like that Naminé's grateful air evaporated. She glowered at Ventus, "If you touch me while I'm naked I swear to God I will do worse to you than the wolves did to me."

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry! But I've, um…"

"What."

"I've seen a, uh, er…"

"I don't want to hear about your exploits! You're shady as hell but I never thought you to be a lech!"

"Naminé, I'm not a pervert!"

"How am I supposed to believe you?"

"I don't know!"

"God, the both of you!"

Ventus blinked, "The both of us?"

"You and Vanitas! I found him in my damned bed this morning!"

"... He was in your bed?"

"Yes, he was," Naminé winced as she crossed her arms over her chest, "I haven't the slightest idea why."

"I don't either, honestly."

"Sure. I don't even know why I came back."

Ventus's shoulders slumped, "It doesn't matter."

"Huh?"

"Once you recover, you get to go home. We won't keep you here."

"... But I thought you needed me?"

"Vanitas wants you to leave, so there's no point."

A choking sensation washed over Naminé, like she was about to cry, "He wants me to leave?"

"He wants me to leave, too."

Naminé folded her hands in her lap and looked at them. She felt a little panicky, though Ventus's cape beneath her kept her somewhat level-headed. The one rational thought on her mind was that she was missing many pieces to an elaborate jigsaw puzzle. Something big was going on here, and she had no idea what. This undefinable sadness kept her from going any further than curiosity.


End file.
